“The work of the mason,” went on the speaker, “now under the free sky as we are, if it be not done in concealment, yet must pass into concealment—­the soil will be laid smoothly in, and thrown over this stone, and with the walls which we rear into the daylight we in the end are seldom remembered.  The works of the stone-cutter and the carver remain under the eyes; but for us it is not to complain when the plasterer blots out the last trace of our hands, and appropriates our work to himself; when he overlays it, and smooths it, and colors it.

“Not from regard for the opinion of others, but from respect for himself, the mason will be faithful in his calling.  There is none who has more need to feel in himself the consciousness of what he is.  When the house is finished, when the soil is smoothed, the surface plastered over, and the outside all overwrought with ornament, he can even penetrate through all disguises and still recognize those exact and careful adjustments to which the whole is indebted for its being and for its persistence.

“But as the man who commits some evil deed has to fear, that, notwithstanding all precautions, it will one day come to light—­so too must he expect who has done some good thing in secret, that it also, in spite of himself, will appear in the day; and therefore we make this foundation-stone at the same time a stone of memorial.  Here, in these various hollows which have been hewn into it, many things are now to be buried, as a witness to some far-off world—­these metal cases hermetically sealed contain documents in writing; matters of various note are engraved on these plates; in these fair glass bottles we bury the best old wine, with a note of the year of its vintage.  We have coins too of many kinds, from the mint of the current year.  All this we have received through the liberality of him for whom we build.  There is space yet remaining, if guest or spectator desires to offer anything to the after-world!”

After a slight pause the speaker looked round; but, as is commonly the case on such occasions, no one was prepared; they were all taken by surprise.  At last, a merry-looking young officer set the example, and said, “If I am to contribute anything which as yet is not to be found in this treasure-chamber, it shall be a pair of buttons from my uniform—­I don’t see why they do not deserve to go down to posterity!” No sooner said than done, and then a number of persons found something of the same sort which they could do; the young ladies did not hesitate to throw in some of their side hair combs—­smelling bottles and other trinkets were not spared.  Only Ottilie hung back; till a kind word from Edward roused her from the abstraction in which she was watching the various things being heaped in.  Then she unclasped from her neck the gold chain on which her father’s picture had hung, and with a light gentle hand laid it down on the other jewels.  Edward rather disarranged the proceedings, by at once, in some haste, having the cover let fall, and fastened down.